


Curse the Bed; Bless the Boy

by trekkiepirate



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Here be angst, M/M, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, truly this isn't a usual fluffy story from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkiepirate/pseuds/trekkiepirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I listened to "Curse the Bed" by Laura Bell Bundy. This happened. Please pay attention to the 'angst with a happy ending' tag, for it is accurate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curse the Bed

Eggsy stood in the doorway of Harry's bedroom, staring at the bed. It was the only modern-looking thing in the house, all sleek steel frame and a mattress that had felt like sleeping on a cloud. A day ago, Jesus, it was only a day ago, Harry had laid Eggsy down on that very bed and proceeded to make him feel worshiped, cherished.

Loved.

Now Harry was gone and Eggsy had just murdered so many (admittedly horrible) people he lost count even before he'd had the idea to blow up heads. Finally moving into the room, Eggsy fell face first into the bed, shifting to get comfortable as he toed off his oxfords.

The mattress still felt like he was laying on air, but it felt wrong. Without Harry's gentle snores or the warmth of his body, the bed felt at once too big and too small.

Eggsy moved again and again, trying to find the way he'd fallen asleep in this bed before. The comfort he'd felt only the night before as he slept here. But he couldn't, not without Harry's chest under his cheek or the older man's strong arms around Eggsy's body. Eggsy was exhausted, had only napped on the plane as he came off the adrenaline-soaked day he'd just had, and he just wanted some fucking sleep.

With a growl, Eggsy rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He glared as if the bed were responsible for Eggsy's situation and kicked the nearest part of the bed frame, earning only a shooting pain in his foot for his trouble. Eggsy dove into Harry's closet and retrieved a tool kit, grabbing out a hammer and swinging it at the frame, at last denting the steel.

Another hit produced another dent and before Eggsy knew it, he'd dragged the bed into the middle of the room, striking the frame again and again, watching it break down. It wasn't until the first teardrops fell onto his aching hands that he realized the frame wasn't the only thing breaking.

Harry's harsh words and his disappointed face swam in front of Eggsy's eyes as he continued destroying the bed. Then it got worse.

Instead of anger and failures, Harry's words became words of praise, of gentleness, skirting around the word love until Eggsy passed the final test to earn his knighthood. Eggsy crushed a slat of the headboard where he'd wrapped his hand as Harry had slid inside him for the first time, breathing Eggsy's name like it was a prayer. Like it was a sacred word.  
Another swing and Eggsy bent the corner where Harry had hit his bare shin after Eggsy had been so eager to get Harry's cock in his mouth, he yanked the older man's trousers off with little care.

With a final scream, Eggsy threw the hammer to a corner of the room. He dropped into a crouch, head in his hands. “Come back, come back, come back,” Eggsy whispered over and over again, like if he said it often enough, his wish would be granted.

Eggsy dropped fully to his knees as he wept, for Harry, for the future they'd been planning. And it had been such a beautiful future they'd planned: about how Eggsy's mum and sister could move into the Kingsman-issued house he would get, how they'd take Daisy and JB to the park, how Harry had looked up good schools in the area. It all hinged on Eggsy passing the damn dog test, but he couldn't. Hell, even if he had, it probably all would have gone to shit anyway. Harry would have still gone to Kentucky and Chester would have still been corrupt. Only difference is, in that version of things Eggsy probably would have died too. Whether he went with Harry to that church or been too happy with his knighthood to notice Chester had poisoned the brandy, Eggsy would most likely be dead.

But he wasn't. Eggsy was Galahad, or so Merlin promised as soon as he was declared acting Arthur on the plane ride back to the UK. Harry's title was now Eggsy's and he had to be worthy of it, worthy of carrying the mantle of the man he loved.

Heaving a sigh that came from his very core, Eggsy stood and slowly made his way into the en suite. Peeling the suit off, Eggsy ran a shower that was as hot as he could stand it. Washing the blood and the dirt and the sweat off took quite some time and when Eggsy exited in a cloud of steam, he wrapped a towel around himself and considered his clothing options. The suit was going to need to be cleaned and Eggsy hadn't brought any clothes with him. Hell, he'd barely realized he'd been directing the Kingsman cab to Harry's house and not his Mum's flat until he was in the door he'd never actually locked when he headed to the tailor shop.

So, Eggsy went back into the bedroom, a careful plan formed in his mind as he scrubbed his skin clean. He opened Harry's drawers and withdrew a pair of pants, which he slipped on. From Harry's closet, he grabbed a pressed white shirt and slid his arms inside, buttoning it up except for the last two buttons at his throat, remembering how Harry had looked after several martinis as he undid the same buttons. The way his mouth had watered and the urge to kiss the revealed skin had made him brave enough to lean in and take Harry's lips in a kiss.

Eggsy then went downstairs and, after a stop in the kitchen and one in the dining room, he headed back upstairs, ignoring the door of Harry's study as he passed. He uncovered a control panel that connected to the various electronic devices in the house and switched a few of them off. He didn't want to be disturbed.

Back in the bedroom, Eggsy had to straighten up the bed. He piled the blanket and sheets that had been knocked over in his previous frenzy back neatly on top on the mattress. Next Eggsy opened the can of gasoline he'd grabbed and poured some up and down the length of the king-sized bed. With a flick of his wrist, Eggsy lit a match and tossed it into the middle of the bed, watching the flames consume the softest sheets he'd ever felt against his skin.

The solid steel frame kept the fire from spreading and it was like a rather grotesque camping fire. Eggsy rolled his head on his shoulders and raised his arms to the ceiling. He then moved into a full set of dancer's stretches he remembered from some lessons when he was first taking gymnastics and wanted to become more limber. Without being fully aware of what he was planning, Eggsy found himself dancing around the burning bed. He twirled, sweeping his arms and kicking his leg up. It felt like a pagan ritual, the destruction of one's past like a sacrifice to the future. The rays of the sunrise were sneaking through the window when Eggsy finally stopped, the flames dying out.

Eggsy moved to the champagne he'd found in the refrigerator, a note on it in Harry's handwriting that read 'Congratulations, darling'. He poured it into a flute and took a long drink, then another to empty the glass. Eggsy poured another and lifted it in a toast to the demolished bed. “To Harry fucking Hart. The love of my fucking life.” He downed it and stood, going back into the bathroom to gather his things.

His mobile was full of text messages and missed calls. Some from his mother, his friends (and a wave of relief washed over Eggsy as he realized both Ryan and Jamal had called him, meaning they had survived), the more recent ones were from Roxy, then Merlin. Merlin had called every ten minutes for the entire night it seemed and when Eggsy went to read the text messages he'd received from the man, it was all different variations on 'Call immediately, something has happened.'

Worried that Roxy had been hurt, Eggsy dialed Merlin.

“At fucking last,” the Scottish man said, picking up before the first ring finished.

“What's happened?” Eggsy asked, already grabbing his suit off the floor and shaking it out. “Is Rox all right? Did some of Valentine's tech survive or something?”

Merlin sighed. “Lad,” he said, then stopped. “Eggsy, after Harry was shot-”

The younger man winced.

“-I sent some of the American Kingsman agents to locate his body.”

“Is there gonna be a funeral?” Eggsy asked.

“There isn't.”

Eggsy felt sick. “So, what? You're just gonna leave him there? Let him be buried with a bunch of bigoted fucks in the middle of fucking nowhere? 'Cause if that's the plan, then fuck you, Merlin. I will go and get him and bring him home myself-”

“Yes you will,” Merlin said.

Feeling like he might begin to cry, even though he was out of tears after the night he'd just had, Eggsy sighed, “Merlin, you ain't dumb. You know how Harry and me felt about each other.”

Merlin was silent for a moment. “I do, Eggsy. I do. Which is why I didn't want to do this over the phone. Lancelot... Roxy should be arriving at Harry's home in a minute or two. I presume that's where you went.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy breathed. “I'm here.”

“Good, I wanted you to have something you could hold as proof and I thought Roxy would be better at helping you than I would.” With that Merlin hung up.

Eggsy barely had time to try to figure out what his parting words had meant when there was a knock on the door.

Roxy was there, her hair in a messy ponytail and a look on her face like she didn't know whether to cry or to laugh.

Pulling her in for a hug, Eggsy didn't even mind that the tablet she held was poking into his bruises. “Thank god, Rox. When I saw all them messages form Merlin, I thought something had happened to ya.”

“Eggsy,” Roxy said, her voice catching. “Eggsy, look,” she pulled back and handed over her tablet.

The scene on the screen brought Eggsy's whole life to a crashing halt for the second time that week. Roxy touched something on the side and the sound of a steady beat filled the room.

He looked up from the screen and watched tears trail down the edges of Roxy's smile as she said, “He's alive. Harry's alive.”

“How?” Eggsy breathed, a finger tracing Harry's sleeping face, trailing to where his chest minutely rose with his breath.

“Valentine was a shit shot,” Roxy said. “When the American agents found him he was still where he'd fallen, but he had a pulse. His head had tilted to the side and pressed against the ground with enough pressure to slow the bleeding. They medivacced him to hospital facilities in their HQ, safe from Valentine's SIM cards, and sent us an alert, but with Arthur's betrayal and saving the world we didn't see it until we were back at HQ. Merlin tried to contact you, with no luck. Eggsy are you all right?” Roxy's head tilted. “Is something burning?”

Eggsy looked up. “I burned the bed.”

During the plane flight, Eggsy had confided everything about himself and Harry to Roxy, needing to say it out loud and make it not seem like a dream that had become a nightmare.

Roxy stared at Eggsy and laughed, a short, vaguely hysterical thing that she immediately smothered with her hand. “Oh, Eggsy. Harry's gonna go mental.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy grinned, because Harry going mental at him meant that Harry was still there, still alive, still Eggsy's. “Yeah, he fucking is.”


	2. Bless the Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel I never planned to write (curse you, @nickygp) about Harry's reaction to the destruction of the bed.

In hindsight, Eggsy really should have cleaned up the mess of the bed. But with the news of Harry's survival, he was on the next jet Merlin could arrange to Kentucky, eager to bring Harry home.

Of course, being shot in the head, even if not fatally, does come with a host of medical problems. Eggsy stayed in the American Kingsman branch's barracks and went to see Harry during all visiting hours every day. Only showering and eating more than bites off Harry's tray when the nurses bodily pushed him out the door each night.

Finally, after a month of surgeries and therapy to dull down the tremor in Harry's left hand, he was pronounced fit to travel.

With a meeting set for the morning at HQ, Eggsy was helping Harry up the steps to the bedroom when he remembered the last night he'd spent in the room.

“Shit,” Eggsy swore.

Harry turned to him, “What's wrong?”

“Shit,” Eggsy said again, running the hand not around Harry's waist down his face. “Fucking shit.”

“Eggsy?” Harry's frown deepened.

Eggsy took a slow breath in. “You remember how I didn't know you was alive for a little bit?”

Harry nodded slowly, still unwilling to move his head much. “Yes. You weren't aware until nearly a full day after I was found by Agents Jefferson and Hamilton.”

“I might have done something very, very stupid in the meantime. I mean, grief makes you do some fucking idiotic shit.”

“Ahhh,” Harry said. “Yes, the princess. Merlin told me. Tilde is a lovely girl, but I believe she's seen one too many Bond films. I've already forgiven you. As you said, you weren't aware I was still alive.”

Eggsy shook his head. “Oh god, no, Harry. Not the princess. Although, yeah, I am sorry for that one too.”

Harry nodded. “So, if not Her Royal Highness' lovely arse, what else have you done?”

“I didn't mean to,” Eggsy said, leaning Harry against the wall as he began to pace. “No, that's a lie, I did mean to but I wouldn't have if I knew you was still alive. I just, I didn't know what to do with myself. I'd saved the world, but you were gone. And all those plans we made about what we could be after I was Lancelot and then I fucking failed and then you died and I saved the world and came back here and just... I couldn't fucking get comfortable anymore, not without you there.”

“Eggsy,” Harry reached out and grabbed the younger man by the arms to cease his frantic motions. “If I could have gotten a message to you sooner, I would have. I am sorry, so sorry my love. If I'd have known what we now know, I would never have gone to Kentucky. I'd never have left you with those cruel words. I would have gone straight to HQ and stood up for you, that your inability to hurt something that depends on you is your greatest strength, not a weakness, dearest.”

“Harry,” Eggsy said, falling into the other man's arms.

It took a moment longer than usual, but Harry stabilized them and began to open the bedroom door. “All forgotten. Now, let's get us into bed-”

“Fuck!” Eggsy exclaimed, reaching out to shut the door again. “No, fuck, Harry that's what I meant. We can't go to bed. We can never lie down in that bed together again.”

Ice waterfalled down Harry's spine. “But, I thought... you've been very affectionate lately and I thought you wanted to be together again.” He swallowed. “I understand if you've changed your mind. I am, after all, not much of a catch anymore. This,” he gestured to the ugly scar along the path the bullet had traveled, “and I'll never be a full field agent again with these blasted tremors. You deserve someone bright and youthful like yourself. Not an old, useless-”

Eggsy shut Harry up with a kiss, much fiercer than the ones they'd indulged in throughout Harry's convalescent. “Fucking shut up about all that. Fuck the age difference, fuck the scar. I love you, Harry Hart and I ain't leaving until you kick me out.”

“Prepare to stay for the rest of my life then,” Harry said, already calculating how long he should woo Eggsy properly before he presented him with his grandfather's ring.

A grin bright as the sun met him as Eggsy pulled back. “Sounds good to me.”

Harry smiled and leaned down for another kiss, this one sweetened with the promise of the future. “Excellent, now let's get to planning that out in-” He'd been opening the door as he spoke and had just looked inside when the words dried up in his throat. “Fucking shit,” he said.

Eggsy was across the room, trying to block the damage with his body. “I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so so sorry about this.”

Harry stared at the bed, then Eggsy. “What happened?”

“I burnt it,” Eggsy said, shifting from foot to foot.

“Yes, I see that,” Harry said. “I should have been more clear: why did this happen?”

Eggsy swallowed. “We made- had sex in that bed. The night before everything went to shit. When I got back, I just... I couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. Like it was mocking me, reminding me of all the things that we'd talked about, all that was never gonna happen anymore. Went after the frame first, took my anger out on it. Then burned the sheets and cried my eyes out.”

Harry assessed the rest of the room. A champagne bottle with a half inch of no doubt flat champagne left inside, a glass next to it on the dresser. A pair of his pants and one of his shirts thrown haphazardly over an armchair as if the person taking them off were in a great hurry. Something Harry knows he wasn't when he last undressed in the room. A can of gasoline and a box of matches completed the scene. He looked again at Eggsy, head down in shame, turned to the side to make himself appear smaller. “I was very fond of that bed,” Harry said, speaking slowly as he contemplated the best way to say what he needed to. “My parents are great antique collector's and most of the furniture in this house came from them. But that bed I chose myself, shortly after being given this house. The steel frame meant it wouldn't burn, a fact you utilized to make sure nothing else in the room was damaged. It was the first big purchase I made with my Kingsman cheque, working for my own money instead of living off my parent's.”

Eggsy winced and his shoulders slumped.

“Strangely enough, however,” Harry continued, “I have never actually cared overly much about it until the morning I woke up in it with you in my arms.”

At last, Eggsy looked up, slightly turning towards Harry again.

Harry stepped forward carefully, ending an arm's length from Eggsy. “So I have to conclude that it doesn't matter a fucking bit about the bed I spend my nights in because if you're there with me, that bed is made precious by the blessing of your presence.”

Eggsy looked like he wanted to launch himself at Harry, but he moved slowly, so he wouldn't aggravate any of Harry's still-healing wounds. He threw his arms around Harry's waist, burying his face against Harry's chest.

“Besides,” Harry said, a hand carding already through the soft blond hair his cheek was pressed against, “this means we get to go shopping for a new bed. Together.”

“Together,” Eggsy murmured, pressing a kiss to where Harry's heart was.

As much as Harry wanted to stay in that moment for all the rest of time, the dull ache in his head was already developing sharply into a migraine and he needed to lie down. “And together, we'll sleep in the guest room tonight. It'll be dusty though, I didn't make it up when you were spending the night because I knew it wouldn't be used.”

Eggsy tilted his head to regard Harry. “Hold on, I kissed you. You knew I was gonna do that and where it'd lead?”

“If you hadn't kissed me, I was going to kiss you,” Harry said. “Kiss you and take you and keep you. Forever.”

Eggsy, bless the boy, beamed up at Harry. “Good plan. Let's do that, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please thank/blame @nickygp because now this is going to have a sequel involving Harry's reaction to the burnt bed. Hoping to have it tomorrow or at least by the weekend.


End file.
